Quitting your job after a week.

Yes, that’s what I did.

I HATED every minute of it. I need to be challenged, stimulated, motivated… I can’t just stand around all day doing NOTHING. I learnt this when I started the job, of course.

I mean, in my interview, I said in basic English “I like being busy, I like projects, I like targets, I like curveballs.” I was met with nods and enthusiasm… That’s what we like, that’s what this job is like, this job is suited to you! Those nods were just lies. Ok, maybe not lies… But it’s all relative, isn’t it. People said to me on the job “Oh god, it’s so busy today!” flustered and flapping, and I just looked at them with bemusement “Ok…”

I spoke to my supervisor, after she penalised me for being late (because she wrote the time in the wrong format on our rota), maybe I insulted her with “I’m used working in an environment with a much faster pace and a lot of responsibility”, but she dismissed my attempt at enquiring on how I should go about resigning, ensuring me that we would be so unbearably busy I’d be eating my words in just a few hours time…

I was left with the shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes! “I hate being on shoes” – Everybody. I suppose walking back and forth between the shoe display and the stockroom is a bit too much like hard work, when you’re used to doing nothing? Anyway, I actually found it quite enjoyable… I could get used to this! I mused.

Then my supervisor intercepted me,

“Walk and talk with me, walk and talk.” I walked “Do you mind talking to me, about your epilepsy… I didn’t know you were epileptic, did you tell them in your interview?”

“Yes.” Ok, what has this got to do with anything.

“I wasn’t told about this, what did she say to you?”

“Nothing, I just told her when she asked me about medical conditions in relation to manual handling and ladders, to be on the safe side.” I laughed, let’s make light of this, it’s not a big deal.

“Well, we’ll need to risk assess you. You know, we won’t be able to send you back of house, in case you have a fit, so… You won’t be able to go to the stockroom, and do you mind telling your colleagues? So they know you can’t go to the stockroom? It’s nothing to worry about, we wouldn’t exclude you for your disability, but you will need to be risk assessed by a manager when you’re in next, we have to do everything by the book.”

I’m not going to lie, I’m not a violent person, but I felt like knocking the bitch out. How dare she make assumptions about my ‘disability’, how dare she speak to me about personal matters on the shop floor, in earshot of other staff members and customers, how dare she take away my beloved shoes?!!?! I got a little bit tearful in that moment, the frustration, the overwhelming emotions related to this stupid diagnosis… She looked me dead in the eye, she saw I was upset, she turned and walked away.

I spent the next hour of my shift manning the fitting room, gritting my teeth and processing the conversation… 3pm, time to go home, but no one came to ‘take me off’, so I waited, getting more and more angry and upset and hating myself just as much as the stupid vacuous woman who put me in this mood. Twenty five minutes felt like a lifetime, and when the sweet girl came to relieve me and apologised, as she’d been sent on her break late, I snapped at her and stormed off to the till point. FIVE staff members patrolled the area, you know, in wait of the horde of customers who would soon be arriving! The supervisor was blocking my path, I needed to sign out and quickly, before I combusted.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m going home (30 minutes late, you vile wench).”

“Ok, do you know when you’re in next? Monday”

I called out a goodbye, no one responded. This really is an unfriendly environment, I thought, as I left the job for good.

I went straight to my friends’ house and ranted, then burst into tears. “Leave” they proclaimed, “Fuck them!” they assured. I went home to my Mum “Leave” she said, angered. I emailed my resignation with immediate effect to HR. Goodbye.

Anyway, on Wednesday, I went and got a new job. It’s not the end of the world.

Another lesson in never asking for help.

I have a job interview tomorrow, it’s just a sales assistant position, but I haven’t been to an interview in a long time. I’m nervous. I’ve researched the company (A LOT) to try and prepare as much as possible but there are a few questions I’ve come across that I’m not too sure about.. I’ve worked in retail before, but not in a high street store.

I’ve already expressed my fears to my family, not just about the interview, but the prospect of going back to work at all.

This is where we need some background information!

In October 2015 I was diagnosed as epileptic. I’ve been epileptic since I was about seven, I was misdiagnosed. Anyway, it’s a long story… I didn’t know anything about epilepsy (at all) until the occupational health nurse at my old job suggested it (June 2015) following an ‘episode’ at work. I had to leave my role immediately for H&S reasons, I was offered work in a less safety critical position within the company, but it was a lot to come to terms with. I chose to leave while I awaited an appointment with a neurologist (and an official diagnoses), at the time I thought it’d be a great opportunity to concentrate on my final year of university (huge mistake, let’s save that for another time).

Biggest trigger for a seizure? STRESS.

Back to the present.

My sister works as a sales assistant in a rival store. She left school at 16 with no qualifications, no aspirations, no confidence. I got her that job. I wrote her CV, I did the psychometric test online, I filled out the entire online application. I helped her choose an outfit, I talked her through a typical interview, I researched the company for her. I supported her, I believed in her.

Today I asked her for some advice, because there were a few industry-specific questions I’d found, that could potentially be asked in the interview, that I was unsure of. Did I receive any help? Did I *BLEEP*!

She told me she was ‘too tired’ to give me some simple advice. Instead, she needed to go and sit at her computer talking to strangers online on her PC game.

I cried. Not because I even NEED her help, but because she is so self involved. The fact she can’t even spare ten minutes to help me, or offer me some support and encouragement when she *should* know what a big deal this is for me is hurtful.

Did I see myself as a 28 year old university dropout, unemployed, living back with my parents and 130lbs heavier two years ago? No, no I did not. I’m trying to reclaim my life, and the people who I have loved and supported (and am still supporting, because I CARE) can’t be there for me when I need them.

Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe I wish I could be as cold, so blissfully unfazed by the people around me and their feelings. It goes back to my previous rant on emotional vampires, she takes what she needs, but she gives nothing back. I shouldn’t be surprised, she has a serious track record for letting me down. To add insult to injury, I can still hear her talking to and laughing at her computer (over an hour later).

Anyway, all of this upset and instead of focusing on my interview preparation, I’m focusing on my sister. Isn’t that sweet, sweeeeet irony!

Lesson I must learn; The more you help people, the more they expect… It never encourages them to be more considerate, if anything, it seems to deter it.

Back to thinking about the interview